You can trim my tree anytime, big guy!

Look! It’s the guy who puts the mirth in the mother. Wow does that sound dirty! Here’s looking at you, husband of 8 years, yin to my yowza, cream in my coffay, responsible for half the genetic material that comprises the li’l mirthlings. I adore you!

The first tree we trimmed together was actually a potted pine plant at my Mom’s house. It had 8 branches on it and was about 3 feet high. It was the saddest, droopiest, ugliest tree ever, and we loaded it with bulbs and tinsel until it looked like an 84-year-old painted hooker.